There didn’t seem to be an immediate solution to the Lawrence predicament, so we just kept drinking. Eventually, between us, we sank the bottle, and that was the point at which my memories blacked out.
The next morning, I woke with a stiff neck, alone in Josh’s bed.
Panic rose. I lifted the duvet.
Fully clothed.
Thank God.
Yes, Lawrence and I were having problems – but it wouldn’t have excused me doing that.
I lay there for a few moments, breathing in the scent of Josh from where it lingered on his bedding. Through the unlatched window the outside air felt clear, washed clean by last night’s rain.
On the wall facing Josh’s bed, there were a few patches of emulsion in varying shades of vanilla, painted over the pale blue. He must have been thinking about redecorating.
I sat up and pushed back my hair. On Josh’s nightstand, I noticed a copy ofThe Remains of the Day, the page turned down about halfway through.
I heard footsteps approaching. Then Josh appeared in the doorway, slim and quiet, like a shadow.
‘It’s okay,’ he said, before I could say anything. ‘I slept on the sofa. In all my clothes.’ He smiled. ‘Even socks.’
It used to be our running joke that we could never have sex with socks on. Even if the moment had taken us and we were still partly clothed, it had always been our agreed red line: all sockshadto come off.
‘That’s good,’ I said meekly, feeling like the world’s worst human. My mouth tasted of stagnant brandy.
‘Yeah, that wouldn’t have been such a great idea, would it?’
I shook my head, and a mud weight of silence sank through the room. Feeling the immediate need to counter it, I nodded at the paint samples on the wall. ‘Top left looks best.’
He laughed, loosely. ‘Can’t even remember which was which now. I kind of... ran out of steam.’
Our eyes met, and sadness cut through me, sharp and deep as the slice of a knife.
I took a breath. ‘I’m sorry I came here last night. Complaining about Lawrence. That was spectacularly unfair.’
He rubbed his jaw. ‘Maybe. A bit.’
‘If it helps, I feel terrible.’
‘Body or soul?’
‘God, both.’
‘I’ll make some coffee.’
Another pause, and there was something inside me that wanted to prolong the moment, for the seconds to slow.
I nodded down atThe Remains of the Dayon his nightstand. ‘Any good?’
A beat. ‘Yeah. It’s . . . all right.’
‘What’s it about?’ I lifted it up, flipping it briefly over. ‘The war?’
Something softened in his eyes, and he shot me a smile. ‘Um, kind of. Yeah.’
As he turned to leave the room, he paused by the door. ‘Rach, for what it’s worth, I don’t think you should be with someone who tries to control you.’
My whole body agreed, when he said that. But it would take another year before I acted on what I already knew.
